Transformers: Shadow - Book 2 - The Dragon Stone
by Cylinder-the-Autobot
Summary: TFS - Everything should be okay - the Decepticons are gone, Cybertron is at peace, and soon, the Autobots will have Optimus Prime back as their leader. So why should two Autobots have anything to worry about?
1. Prologue - The Mausoleum

Prologue – The Mausoleum

"Keep his head steady," a voice, reduced to nothing but a whisper, drifted through the barren halls. Several figures, barely outlined in the dim light, moved stealthily through the maze of metallic rooms and passageways, each of them carrying a mass much larger than their own.

Leading the group was a red and orange robotic being, decorated in flames and the bright glow of his pale blue optics. Rodimus Prime set the pace for the other robots transporting the body, doing his best to keep the others focused on their mission. The Autobot leader eyed the smaller troops next to him. Slowly, he shifted his gaze to the metal body they were supporting.

Red chest paneling complemented deep blue arms, legs, and spiked helm, centered on dark optics. Optics that were blacker than the darkness of space around the almost foreign entities. Everything on the body had greyed and faded, reducing the metallic frame to nothing more than a pile of scrap metal to the ever-curious eyes of outsiders. But to the Autobots, this body represented much more than scarp metal ever would.

Though it might have sounded crazy at the time, Rodimus' idea of bringing back Optimus Prime was truly noble and brilliant. Thanks to a "discovery" he had made, the Autobots were now in possession of a powerful energy source that had the potential to restore the older Prime's life force. No one knew how the current leader had gotten it; let alone how he had figured out the complexity of the energy. But for them, this achievement was milestones beyond any Cybertronian's intelligence.

In his hand, Rodimus clutched a stony blue substance, the unknown energy, and the proposed source of Optimus Prime's new life. It was crystalline in structure, and from appearances alone it looked incredibly powerful and menacing. But Rodimus knew of a much darker tale.

There was no record of this stone in any Cybertronian database, but seeing its power firsthand was enough for Rodimus to know of its devastating power. Powerful enough to restore life, dangerous enough to destroy worlds, this stone was what he had dubbed as "Blue Energon." Though even with his persuasive speeches about it, he could never tell the others what it had done to him, or anyone else that the stone had come into contact with. The Energon had used its uncontrollable power to take him to a world much unlike his own, and had brought him back in a flash of light. The Blue Energon was recognized to be powerful, and if it fell in the wrong hands, it could spell out ultimate devastation.

Though Rodimus knew that the only force that could possibly threaten the Energon's safety were the Decepticons. But they were gone, trapped in the world the very substance had taken them to. Their leader, Galvatron, was locked in a world where he could not escape, which left the rest of the Decepticons without a leader, without a driving will to fight.

Slowly, Rodimus shifted his gaze back to the four troops carrying the lifeless shell that was once Optimus, the shuttle for their departure in sight of the Autobot Mausoleum's docking bay. If his plan worked, Optimus would lead once again, and Rodimus would no longer be burdened with the pains of leadership. The thought resonated with him underneath the smile that appeared on his faceplate as his team boarded the massive spaceship.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the Mausoleum, another creature stirred. Though no one would ever know she had been there. Her energy signature was undetectable by Cybertronian systems, which made her visible only by sight. Quietly, Cylinder moved through the seemingly endless tunnels, not letting a single sound echo through the wide, empty halls. She had to be quick, straightforward, and precise if she wanted to complete her mission with absolute flawlessness. The blue femme sprang to the rafters of the structure the moment she heard a sound, but kept going as soon as she was sure it was gone.

With a few quick strides, the young Aerialbot reached her destination. Yet her face remained neutral, despite the pride that welled in her Spark. A tall, metal archway stretched above her, a metal signed hanging from the top. Though it was written in a language far too advanced for her own kind, it had enough recognizable words that Cylinder could roughly translate it into saying: _Battle of Autobot City._

A small smile spread across her face before disappearing just as quickly. Keeping her focus, Cylinder quickly moved through the winding labyrinth of an almost endless amount of graves. Many of which were recognizable to the blue and gold jet. But only a few of them did she care about.

All of these Autobots had been unjustly executed at the hands of the Decepticons. None of them deserved to die; yet here they were, sealed away in this drifting metal prison, never to be seen again. But for six of them, that was about to change.

The hall was set up in an order from highest ranking officers to lowest, the highest being the commanders and scientists, the lowest being the young mechs and femmes that had been mowed down at the front lines of the battle. Without a single glance around, Cylinder passed by the numerous locked-up caskets that lined the room, keeping an unchanging path as she walked straight for the back of the wing.

There was no point in bothering with the lesser-known graves of the fallen Autobots. Very few mattered at this point.

From her subspace, Cylinder drew a small object and grasped it firmly. Bought in a black market, Cylinder found that the small device acted as a miniature spacebridge, able to transport materials from one place to another.

Illegally.

Products like these were highly forbidden on Cybertron, but no one would ever know about it. Cylinder, being a master at stealth and secrecy, knew exactly where to hide it without being caught. The blue femme thought nothing of this crime as she stalked through the dark graves. As it was, her judgment had been blocked so long ago, that she had come to adopt the feeling as her own free will.

But deep down, she knew that it was not right. None of this was right. The true Cylinder, the one other Autobots used to know so well, had been murdered by an unknown entity and took her body as its own. It kept her true spirit hidden, concealed by its power. Often she would try to fight it, but it would always put her down in the end.

The Voice had become too powerful. Yet the only thing keeping it from total control was the ever-patient presence of another entity, another voice that did what it could to keep the remainder of the old Cylinder there. And Cylinder owed him for every minute of it.

Absentmindedly, the silent Aerialbot regarded the object before turning it on. With a few quick taps of her finger digits, the coordinates for her destination were locked in, and the machine fully charged to life. Before her, a large portal opened, and the image of an old and dusty lab soon appeared afterwards.

Before Rodimus' ship could even depart, the portal had closed, and six bodies were now missing from the Battle of Autobot City Wing.


	2. Chapter 1 - Criminals in Hiding

Chapter 1 – Criminals in Hiding

By the time the shuttle had left the mausoleum and returned from its long journey to Cybertron, Cylinder had still not found a place to hide six rusty, decaying bodies of the lifeless Transformers anywhere in her All-Spark-forsaken lab. Only two of them matched her height, so hiding the rest would be a problem when the only places she could think of putting them were Cylinder-sized holes and hideaways.

However, the major emotional challenge came when she felt the need to drag the body on her operating table across the room and into a corner to put it out of sight – because, like the others, there was absolutely no place to hide it, and the blue femme was quite tired of seeing it. Cylinder approached it, and for the first time since she last saw it, no emotion crossed her faceplates. The sounds of everything in the room, including her systems, seemed to fall silent as the minutes passed by. The femme's blank expression continued to stare at the body currently on her makeshift operating table. Nothing from it moved, and no sounds came out of it; just silence – dark, empty silence.

For so long, Cylinder had come to know the beings inhabiting the decaying shells. Now, they looked nothing more than the dead defense drones scattered miles beneath Cybertron's surface. There was nothing left in them. Cylinder tried to remember them, her stuttering processor searching the vast extent of its memory files, but evidently turning up with nothing. She could no longer remember why she had brought them here in the first place. She could not even remember their names.

Expressionless optics traced the frame of the shells, pointing out every small bump, dent, and scratch that had found its way into the rusting body. Old, musty Energon leaked out of the bodies and dried quickly on the table and the floors. Cylinder did not bother cleaning it. The air hung completely still around the entities as the femme flinched in disapproval. She covered one of them quickly and turned away, clutching herself in a tight embrace and slumping to the floor.

After a long pause, the blue Autobot felt herself crack even more as she buried her face deep into her arms. The light metal frame trembled with emotion. Cylinder's wings drooped as low as they could possibly move, and the light sound of weakened sobs penetrated the cold, empty silence like a bullet. She tried to remember. Why did she do this? Was there even a reason behind it? _What have I done?_ She kept repeating these words to herself over and over again, as if hoping that something could give her the answer.

But the real question was: What did _the Voice_ make her do?

Cylinder, because of her own blindness and mentally destroyed processor, had committed an almost unspeakable crime amongst Cybertronians. She had desecrated six graves of the most honorable of Autobots, and brought their bodies back to Cybertron. In some cases, that was theft. Dead or alive, stealing something was not permitted on Cybertron. And disturbing the graves of the bodies at rest was even a greater crime, for the Autobots believed that once a body was buried, in order for the spirit to travel to and live in the Well of All Sparks, the body must stay at rest, therefore the tomb must be sealed forever.

The best option was to take them back, but this time, Cylinder could not cover her tracks. The damage had already been done. The graves had been opened, destroying the seal of the tightly welded metal that kept the lid on top of the rest of the box.

Frustrated by the debate raging inside her, Cylinder slammed her fist into the side of the table, leaving a huge dent in the otherwise flawless metal. Fueled by rage and the desire to get the haunting bodies out of her face, she suddenly remembered a storage area she rarely opened. The femme clumsily fumbled around her cluttered lab in search of a small slot in the wall. When she finally felt her hand slip inside an almost ungraspable hold, she gave it the strongest pull her joints could muster.

Beyond the door lied a vast expanse of storage area, abandoned long ago by the scientists who used to live and work there, back when Cylinder's home, as deep as it was, was on the outer layer of Cybertron's surface. The rusty shelves were stocked with various collections of tools and long abandoned projects, many that the Aerialbot could not recognize for their primitive nature. Yet she kept them for the sake of curiosity, fully entranced with the world around her that she may never know. The old room acted as a place where Cylinder could find peace, and now, it would serve as a new tomb for the six bodies that she had brought home. _Yes,_ the Voice mused, _this will be a good place._

Long ago, before the height of the Second Great War, Cybertron functioned like any other normal planet. It had days and nights, a regular weather pattern, and it orbited a sun, Alpha Centauri. But one climactic battle changed that balance. A massive explosion had temporarily disrupted the flow of energy and the gravity in the planet, causing it to slip away from the orbital path and drift slowly into space.

From that point on, most of Cybertron was left shrouded in complete darkness, only to turn to find the few energizing rays of the sun every few months afterwards. And when that sun peaked over the horizon, for a while, every Transformer that walked the metal surface felt a surge of happiness course through their circuits.

Today was one of those days. The first hint of light scattered across the old, war-torn surface of the world, creeping its way up the eternal darkness of the buildings in Deltraan, to the bright glittering scenes of the bustling Iacon. The normally black sky turned a soft pink as neighboring stars began to fade away. Autobots crept out of old underground housing and shops to bask in the rays of their long lost sun.

The Autobots had prepared for this day since the last sunrise. A large reunion was to be held in the center of Iacon Square for the gathering of all Autobots who had been stationed on Earth from the year of 1984 to the early 2000s, so that the 'Bots that had been trapped for years on that organic planet, now scattered across the universe, could come home for one day to see their old friends and comrades. Cylinder laughed at the ironic connection between that and her own recent experiences.

Naturally, the female Aerialbot was invited, due to being sparked on Earth in the year of 1987. But she declined Rodimus' invitation; opting to secretly hack surveillance cameras of the square and watch the crowds of old companions mingle from the safety and seclusion of her lab.

But there was a side to her that told her to go, the side that always battled the Voice. At one point in time, Cylinder thought of this fighting force as the spirit of the long dead Prowl, but as these mental battles became more and more violent, the Aerialbot began to understand the true stubbornness and viciousness to this other side, something Prowl never possessed enough of. As it became more apparent, she realized that the only thing that could battle the Voice now was her own conscience, her own stubbornness that had always been apart of her.

Lately, activity from that side of her mind had been much quieter after Cylinder had listened to the Voice's idea of taking the six bodies from the mausoleum. But now that the reunion had started, there was no quieting it.

_Go. Just go. You haven't seen them in years._ Not even the Voice protested. It was true, though. After Unicron's attack on her home planet, Cylinder became errant and withdrawn from the world, refusing the company of Autobots she had known since the beginning of her life. But the flyer ignored this impulse all the same, shutting down the computers and sinking onto her berth.

She must have fallen into recharge because the next thing she heard was a loud knock on her almost invisible door.

_Dammit, Rodimus. Leave me alone,_ Cylinder growled to herself before dragging her tired frame to the entrance. She took her time unlocking it, and was only somewhat surprised that she found no one to greet her. Only Rodimus knew the way to her lab, yet it was strange of him to just leave. As impatient as he was, he never left Cylinder's door until he confirmed with her over radio that she wasn't there. And even if he had left, unless he was suddenly faster than Blurr, he would have still been able to be seen on either ends of the large hall.

Cylinder stepped outside cautiously before peering down the corridor. Finding no evidence of life and not bothering to check her radar, the Aerialbot shuffled back into her room and slid the panel shut. Everything would have gone back to normal had a red intruder not leapt from the shadows of the blue femme's lab.

"Boo."

With a panicked shriek, Cylinder slammed herself against the wall hard enough to stun her systems. As her vision began to clear off the static, the sound of fierce laughter prompted her to kick out the leg of her supposed attacker. A loud metal clank on the ground signaled his fall as Cylinder rolled to hit again. Her fist collided with the floor, narrowly missing his head.

"Woah! Cyl, stop!" An even larger fist, wrapping its large digits around the blue Autobot's hand, halted Cylinder's second punch. "It's me!"

Cylinder regained focus during her frenzy to get a glimpse of the terrified child's face on the young red mech. Fear and distrust buried themselves in his violet-blue optics. Without a word, she pushed away from him. His sleek, red and black frame of a ridiculously expensive Earth vehicle propped itself up on the femme's lab table silently.

Backing herself against the wall again, Cylinder addressed the older mech with cold emptiness, "Primus, Sideswipe. Don't do that."

"Didn't know you'd fight back," he shrugged as if nothing happened, tapping the spot where Cylinder's foot connected with his leg. "What've you been doin' down here, Cyl? Dust collecting?"

"Don't call me that," she retorted sharply to her infamous (and still widely used) nickname before realizing one crucial detail to his arrival. "How in the pit did you get down here anyway?" she asked, presently moving throughout her clutter of tools to find a secret alternate entrance.

"I walked," came Sideswipe's blatant yet light-hearted reply. He looked at the table that was supporting him, noting the significant amount of dried Energon on the surface. The taller mech turned to Cylinder, who was absent-mindedly exploring her dwellings with her back turned to him. A very disturbing thought crossed his mind. He knew the Aerialbot and his long-time friend had become a spiteful recluse, but he never imagined her being able to do what he was beginning to suspect. Even against a Decepticon in times of war, any opponent Cylinder killed died by a swift, painless, and often mess-free death – not something where Energon splattered everywhere.

Or maybe . . . was this old stuff, from whatever previous owners experimented with? Was it Cylinder's own? Or . . . could this young, innocent-looking femme be a cold murderer? Sideswipe preferred not to think about it.

"Only Rodimus knows the way down here," she continued, giving up on her search, "Did he tell you where I live?"

"Yeah."

" . . . Why?"

"He knew that I was your friend and asked me if I wanted to try and convince you to get out of your lab and into the party." Sideswipe watched as Cylinder moved to the other side of the room, optics dull and practically lifeless, head drooped in defeat.

"I have no place there," was all she could say.

"What do you mean you have no place there? That's your family, Cyl," Sideswipe raised his voice, "You're one of –"

"No I'm not!" she growled violently, "I'm not one of them, or of you! Don't even try to convince me that I am."

Sideswipe backed away at the sudden ice in her tone, before watching helplessly as she sunk to the ground at the foot of the berth. The mech understood her words very well. From an early time in her life he knew that she was different from the rest of the Transformers, Autobots and Decepticons alike. Small, almost invisible mental problems came with that over time. Anxiety followed. But it was not until after the war ended that the Autobots knew she had been permanently scarred, physically and psychologically. But knowing the true Cylinder was still inside this broken shell, Sideswipe felt no conflicts in sitting next to her.

"You are, to me," he continued, "I don't care about your differences, Cylinder. From the moment you were sparked you became just like any one of us, you were apart of our family." He placed a hand on her helm and shook it affectionately, as any older brother would do to his younger siblings. "You're like the younger sister I've never had. Sunny could never give me the kind of affection you did."

Cylinder thought of Sideswipe's older twin Sunstreaker. The golden mech had to be prowling about the square for femmes by now. "I'm not a transformer," she repeated in quiet stubbornness, "I'm a lab experiment gone wrong. Neither Wheeljack, noreven Preceptor intended my spark to come into being. All they could do was build a shell and see where that would take them."

"Personally I think that's one experiment Wheeljack _didn't_ frag up," Sideswipe chuckled, managing to get a small smile of gratitude from the blue femme.

For a long time, the two Autobots sat in silence. Sideswipe never brought up the Energon, fearing to ignite another emotional surge, and also because it was not any of his business.

"You should still come though, even if it is just for a few kliks," he turned hopefully towards Cylinder, who was now seemingly staring at something that was not there.

"Why?"

"Because there are 'Bots who miss you and want to see you."

Cylinder was surprised at the growing maturity in Sideswipe's voice. He was well past the growth stage, catalogued by most medics as an adult, despite his childish ways that he often demonstrated with his twin.

"How can I go," she muttered hesitantly, "When I know there are 'Bots who should be there that can't."

"Like . . .?" Though Sideswipe knew exactly what she meant.

"Optimus, Prowl, Ratchet," Cylinder choked, "Ironhide, Wheeljack, Mirage . . . " Her voice drifted off until the room was silent again.

"What about Jazz?" he asked, "Sunny? Hound? Bluestreak? Bumblebee? Hell, the other Aerialbots are there. Can't you just put your antisocial-ness aside, put a big smile on your face, and greet everyone the way the old Cyl did?"

Cylinder so desperately wanted to, but why was it so hard for her? Was the Voice affecting more than her thoughts? No. And if it were, she would not let it. As hurt and upset as she was, the Aerialbot deeply wanted to see everyone one more time. Because with everything going the way it was right now, she felt she would not live long enough to see them all again.

"Okay, a few kliks. That's it," but Cylinder knew that it would end up being a few hours.

Just as any other day, Ultra Magnus had found himself at the helm of the tracking station, where his alternate expertise worked its magic. Of course, like usual there was nothing for that magic to be worked on.

Neither Ultra Magnus, nor Rodimus had been on Earth before the cutoff time, so both of them opted to stay inside the tower while the reunion took place. But being the leaders, appearances had to be made towards the end for a few words of thanks and a rousing "'Till all are one!" speech.

But for now, the two mechs sat in awkward silence, willing the time to go faster. With Decepticon activity practically gone, there was never anything to do, especially at the tracking station. No one, not even Blurr, enjoyed coming to work anymore. Some 'Bots stopped showing up all together. Rodimus could hardly blame them.

The red Autobot tapped his foot lazily against his desk. Normally, Magnus would scold him for such annoying noises, but today, the older mech was grateful for the sound that echoed in a small beat throughout the room.

After a few minutes of tapping against the desk, Rodimus cracked, "Why can't we just go? There's nothing to do."

"There is no safety in leaving the radar systems alone," came Ultra Magnus' pointed reply. "What if we pick up a signal and no one is here to report it?"

"Still," Rodimus titled his head back and shut his optics off, "Anything sounds better than this."

Ultra Magnus sighed, "I agree with you. But I'd rather not risk attack because no one was here to report a suspicious signal. Just because there has not been any activity, doesn't mean that something won't happen at any given moment. Galvatron could be waiting for the right time to strike. You know that the longer the Decepticons are inactive, the bigger and more devastating their plans can be."

But despite this warning, Rodimus knew for sure that nothing would happen. He had personally witnessed the demise of the Decepticons. They were trapped on another world, with no means of escape. Any of that ability to do so was safely locked away in a medical vault, being used to reactivate Optimus Prime. It should not be long now . . . And without Galvatron, the Decepticons were leaderless, with no means of attacking and no inspiration to do so. Still, he kept these thoughts to himself. The only other 'Bot who could ever know and share this information with him was the blue Aerialbot femme that had accidentally accompanied him on this perilous journey. And even he was slowly beginning to doubt his trust in Cylinder.

"Well, I can't believe I'm saying this," Rodimus muttered absentmindedly, "But I'd really like to see something pop up on that screen, otherwise I'm going home." Ultra Magnus nodded in unenthusiastic agreement.

And amazingly, as if Primus himself had heard the pleas of the Autobot leader and his second in command, a loud beep echoed through the otherwise silent room. A small speck of light blinked as is traveled slowly across the radar screen. Ultra Magnus leaned closer to the screen, optics instantly brightening, something unusual for the strictly sophisticated mech.

"I can't believe it," came the shocked breath from the second in command. "This is the same energy signature I picked up before you and Cylinder disappeared."

The words would have meant nothing to Rodimus had he not seen the same thing Magnus saw. He leaned over the console just to confirm what he heard. There was no way. There was just no way . . . And yet it was. Right before him was living proof that the Energon still existed somewhere else. At least this time it was not coming for Cybertron, but instead drifting by the radar's field. And even if the computer said what it was supposed to be, it could have been a mistake by the old systems. It could have been a similar signal from a completely harmless substance floating through the vacuum of space. Yet Rodimus knew exactly what his instincts were telling him.

"We need to get Cyl in here fast."

Ultra Magnus looked up at him suspiciously, "What could she do?"

"I have a feeling that we don't know as much as we think we do about the Blue Energon," Rodimus replied instantly, "If it's just floating around Cybertron like this, there obviously has to be a record or some information that could tell us more about this substance and its purpose somewhere in these old systems, even if we have to dig below the surface to find it. And Cyl's the best way of doing it."

"Rodimus I've already checked our information databases for anything about the Energon after you introduced it to us. I've found nothing." Magnus turned to face the younger mech, his voice deepening with authority over the youth.

"But Cyl can find things that other 'Bots can't," Rodimus insisted, leaning back on his own desk.

"Cylinder is mentally unstable," he replied, "I don't feel that we can trust her to keep the information classified."

"She keeps herself isolated several levels below the surface! She hardly talks to anyone anymore! We can trust her. And as I see it, her mind is far more complicated than any of our scientists – the information she could hold would be enormous if she had the care to remember it all. The power to analyze in her processor is incredibly potent, and you've witnessed that firsthand, I'm sure."

Turning back to the console only to see the signal begin to fade away, Ultra Magnus froze the radar screen and highlighted the signal with all the patience and slow movement in the universe, which severely irritated Rodimus. "I still don't want her in here. It was hard enough watching her when she touched this thing the last time. And I'm not going to make a trek below the surface to find her lab that she obviously chose to keep visitors away."

"She's going to the party; I'll stay behind and review what I can of this. Bring her in here," Rodimus exercised his own authority over his second, "That's an order."

Ultra Magnus twisted his lips into a deep frown before nodding and leaving the room. As the door closed behind the blue and red mech, Rodimus turned hurriedly towards the radar screen, his calm authoritative demeanor cracking into a silent panic that surged through his shaking body.

Sideswipe practically dragged Cylinder to the surface of the planet, shutting off his audios every time he heard a hasty second-guessing protest or at the sound of large metal feet scraping against the floor. But despite her intense struggle, Cylinder was nowhere close to matching the red Autobot's strength. He plastered on his biggest smile as they reached the square, and the Aerialbot knew that there was no point in struggling now. Now she had to act sociable and friendly. She had to act as if nothing ever happened. She did not want any more "mentally insane" brands on her, anyway.

Cylinder's optics darted about hopelessly as she watched her old friends socialize and dwell happily amongst the crowd. Smiles wider than Sideswipe's spread across even the hardest of Autobots. The red mech looked down at her, grabbing her hand in a gentler, less resisting manner, and guided her to a small, easy-going group of mechs. Expressions from surprised to acceptance ranged on the small group of familiar faces. Though her optics betrayed her hidden insecurity, her mouth formed a hard neutral line on her face, but softened into a slight smile when a small grey mech wrapped his arms around the blue Aerialbot.

"Hey, Blue," Cylinder gazed into the dark sapphire optics of the Autobot sniper whose appearance reminded her far too much of Prowl's. Bluestreak released his death grip of a hug and smiled brightly.

"Cyl, it's so great to see you! I've missed you so much, and I can't believe you're here with us. But I also can't believe I'm here either, I mean I've been stationed on Earth working patrol with a bunch of humans and after a while they don't like listening to my stories about Cybertron and always complain. They say I talk too much! Can you believe that? Because I can't! I mean I know I like to talk but I don't talk all the time! You know, sharpshooters have to be quiet and stealthy if they want to get the job done and . . . "

Cylinder listened to Bluestreak's rambling for a few minutes until Sunstreaker finally interrupted him. The golden twin addressed his brother the same way any sibling would.

"It's about time she crawled out of her hole in the ground. Nice job, Sides."

After all these years, he still wore the same Earth mode as his brother, one golden and one red Lamborghini Aventador, an upgrade from their previous models, the Lamborghini Countach (and surprisingly, both were still ridiculously expensive). And Cylinder also noted, after all these years, Sunstreaker was still an egotistical prude. His paint was flawless and glowed beautifully in the afternoon sunlight. He wore his signature black and yellow head crests proudly, and his usual dazzling smile of a big time ladies 'bot spread across his lips. His proud stance gave off the vibe of arrogance and high status, even though he and his brother held about as much social standings as the waste disposal 'bots. Yet despite all of this, the yellow mech couldn't resist giving the younger femme a soft smile.

A short green mech, also bearing an Earthly model, poked his head out from behind Sunstreaker. Hound gave Cylinder a hearty pat on the back and a warm hug, yet remained curiously silent.

And the torture began. Though she was calm, cordial, and friendly on the outside, Cylinder was screaming on the inside. She had forgotten about the mutual hate she had slowly developed for her once comrades. No, she did not hate them in that way. Deep inside, the blue femme loved them all deeply. It was the growing distrust and assumptions of her mental state – by her own friends – that made her gain her hatred of them. And now she knew that she wanted nothing of their fake compassion and kindness.

At one point Cylinder managed to escape from Sideswipe's guiding hand to find Bumblebee by himself. The yellow minibot smiled upon seeing the femme and gave her the biggest hug he could manage around her knees. Despite his miniscule size compared to her and the innocent, childish demeanor, Bee was a full-grown adult, a few million years older than his blue friend and comrade. Cylinder found it easy to talk to him. Because no matter what she said or how she felt, Bumblebee would always find a way to brighten her mood.

During their conversation, Cylinder found she was being interrupted by the last mech she would have ever thought would have disturbed someone while they were clearly busy. Ultra Magnus stood over the two sitting Autobots, and authoritative look in his baby blue optics.

"Rodimus has requested your presence in the tower," he said emphatically.

"Wow," said Bumblebee in amusement, "You're needed by the boss? Moving up in the world, huh, Cyl?" he laughed at Cylinder's questioning gaze.

"Yeah," she muttered, "I guess I'll see you later." Though Cylinder felt as if she never would.

As she left with Magnus, she pointed her wings in an expression of gratitude towards him. The torture would be over for now.

By the time Ultra Magnus had reached Iacon Tower, Cylinder had relaxed herself in Rodimus' desk chair and muttered a bunch of gibberish that sounded like words of thanks. The second in command gestured for her to follow him as he sat down in front of his favorite radar console. The powerful energy signature pulsated wildly on the screen until it went out of the radar's field.

"Thanks, Magnus. You can leave now," Rodimus uttered calmly as he leaned against his desk, though Cylinder could easily see the strain and worry in his voice.

When the door closed behind them, without taking her eyes off the screen, Cylinder spoke softly, "There's more."

"You sure it's the stuff and not some mistake?" he rose from where he sat and eyed the same screen the Aerialbot was gazing at.

"I doubt it's a mistake. These computers are pretty good at not mistaking anything. Believe me, I've tried to make it do that in my lab. But my computers are a little too primitive and the current system's too strong."

Rodimus ignored that last part and instead shifted to a slightly different topic. "I want you to see if you can find any information on the Energon. I have a feeling that there's more about this stuff that our ancestors might have known but never shared. If it's just floating around in space, that means there's more out in the universe and that means that other Cybertronians at one point might have known about it."

Cylinder hesitated for a moment before answering, "Why me?"

"Because you are the best at finding out information when it comes to working with the computers," he replied. "If there's more out there, that means there's a possibility for it to be around the Dragon Realms, and that means you-know-who can come back and start a new war."

"We're already in a new war. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

"Fine," he agreed without refuting, "Don't worry about the fighting – but what about the other dragons there? You heard what happened to the Sludge Dragons, and that was when the Decepticons were dragons, themselves. What happens if they get their hands on the Energon and turn back into robots? That whole world will fall into chaos."

"That whole world is already _in _chaos." Cylinder thought about the Sludge Dragons. Completely outnumbered, Galvatron managed to overpower their resistance and their Guardian Serina in a desperate fight for control of the wall that separated them from the Autobots and a crucial piece to their plan beyond.

"What if," Rodimus continued, "They figure out how to use the Energon to free Marchosias from his prison? Then the world and freedom for the dragons will end!"

The very sound of the Dark Forces' leader made Cylinder tense. Defeated in a devastating battle, the leaders of the Dragon realms ultimately decided that as punishment, he needed to be imprisoned in the core of their planet where he would die a slow and painful death for his crimes. But he never died, and continued to live on, leaving his power and influence spread across the Realms.

But then again, why did she care? Why did Rodimus care? It was not their planet, so it was not their concern. But in a way, it was. After meeting the dragons that lived there and after hearing the depressing story of their struggles to become a peaceful world, both Rodimus and Cylinder understood the bond they had developed with the dragons. Because of that bond, they had made a promise to return to the world they had left in peril, a promise that would not be broken.

"Trust me," Cylinder muttered, reaching into a subspace pocket, "The Energon is too soft to cut at that crystal wall. They need something much harder and sharper. And the only thing they could possibly use is this." Slowly, the blue Aerialbot unfurled her small hand, revealing an even smaller object that rested in her palm. A clear, rough and jagged stone sat peacefully in the shaking Autobot's hand. Intricate cravings depicting various foreign characters and images scattered about the stone, while clear, colorful streams of energy flowed through the space on the inside of the powerful rock.

This was the Dragon Stone, a diamond the green dragon Acid had created and powered for the Trine Guard, an alliance of Elemental Guardians, to build the wall that surrounded the geographical area known as the scorched earth and the entrance to Marchosias' prison. It was the key to freeing him, and as it stood, the only thing Galvatron needed to do so to conquer both that world and Cybertron.

Rodimus stood up and seized the stone from Cylinder's hand. "You still have it? I thought you got rid of it after we got home."

"Acid gave it to me. He obviously trusted me to take care of it so I did." Without another word, Cylinder snatched the stone out of Rodimus' hand and re-pocketed it. She turned back towards the radar screen, which now had a pop-up listing any known records of the energy signature that so closely matched the Blue Energon. Unfortunately, the records were all recent, thriving off of any information the scientists and medics had found during their investigations in the past few months.

"What do you want me to do about this," Cylinder asked.

"I'm going to halt the restoration of Optimus for now," Rodimus concluded sadly. The Autobot leader rose and walked slowly back to his desk, thinking about what he was going to say next. But Cylinder had taken the thoughts right out of his head and into her mouth.

"You want me to dig around deeper in the planet and find what I can?" Rodimus nodded irately at her latest mind-reading trick.

"_And_," he added before she could speak again, "I want you to run your own tests on the Energon and see what you can find out about it yourself."

"I'm not a scientist," she replied.

"No," Rodimus agreed, "But you have a sufficient amount of medical training that has taught you how to be careful and willing to explore the unknown when the situation could possibly turn dire."

Considering this, Cylinder nodded and reluctantly agreed. She knew that she would regret this later on, but for now, all the Aerialbot wanted to do was help the dragons and the Realms in anyway she could. And the best way to start, she concluded, was by studying the very object that brought her to the almost shadow realm of Cybertron in the first place. Without another word, she followed Rodimus to Iacon Tower's med bay, where Optimus Prime's body was being held, to help him give the orders of stopping the project and recovering the Energon.

The tracking consoles were abandoned. But on one small screen, an old, burned-out planet was being monitored. And on that screen, the foreign energy signature returned. But this was not just some form of energy. This was a fully-grown crystal.


End file.
